


Enough

by YourEyesHoldTheGalaxy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Thoughts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Growing Apart, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourEyesHoldTheGalaxy/pseuds/YourEyesHoldTheGalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has been being distant and Dan feels like their friendship is over, while Phil is trying to block out some thoughts that he doesn’t want to think about, the thoughts of Dan needing more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

\-----------------------  
Maybe it was because of the cold outside the window or maybe it was because the thought came out of the darkest corners of my mind, seemly out of nowhere, that the thought scared me to this extreme, but either way, I ended up under my covers, sheet pulled over my head, blocking the world out. The darkness surrounded me, creating a comfort of the feeling of a pause in the world around me. The only sound interrupting the dark silence was of keys clicking on a laptop, his laptop, in the lounge, with the television playing in the background. The only noise that wasn’t the ringing of the thoughts that hounded me to this state, and yet I much preferred the thoughts to the clicking of keys from someone I barely saw anymore.

Still, as inviting as it was, I laid under the dark sheets of my bed and felt my world fall around me, crumbling like ancient ruins during an earthquake, falling into broken fragments that once fit into such a beautiful piece of art. Just like the collapse of an ancient building, the falling apart of my life was inevitable. Of course, it was, everything only lasted so long. However, the crash of my world seemed too sudden, like an unexpected snow in, something I was entirely unprepared for, because the prospect of Phil growing apart from me had never occurred to me. It might have to do with the shrinking years he has left to achieve his dreams, the pure fact of aging might be the cause, however unlikely. I had, of course, understood he was getting older I just never connected it to getting older. Just as I hadn’t connected it with distancing himself from me. The thought nagged at the back of my mind for months, the thought of him wanting to achieve those lifelong dreams of a loving partner and a few children, that when I noticed the small changes in behavior, I began to feel the dread of the end of us set in. Phil was getting to the age of settling down, while I was still in the awkward years of adventure, but that isn’t to say I didn’t want to settle down, I was never the adventures type.

  
Four years his junior never mattered to me, to us really. He was still my best friend regardless of the age gap. We gabbed like best friends, because we were, are rather. But there comes a point in time where all good things must come to an end. And to me, the end to this world we had created seemed fast approaching, if only in my head, however unlikely that seemed with each passing day. There’s a point where a tree no longer yields beautiful flowers and where the sky decides to cloud over. Where the last snow melts or when the snow first falls. There’s an end to everything, and this was no exception. No matter the amount of wishing I did, that matter could not be changed. It was like dealing with Alzheimer’s, you know it’s there, and you know that you only have so much time left, but we push it away, only to have it gnaw away at our minds until there is no denying to clear truth.

The atmosphere under the covers breed false hope, it was warm and inviting, against the bitter cold of my thoughts. I had come to the conclusion long ago that nothing is permanent, neither you nor I, neither the earth or the sky, but rather everything has varying time slots that it can take up. It’s a rather odd thing, truly, to think of the person who you’ve spent so much time with to just change randomly, as if without your permission. Phil was changing. I could see the glint in his eyes dull a little, the smile on his face never quite reaching the blue orbs anymore. I could tell in his gestures, the hands he once used to speak with stayed limp at his sides. His enthusiasm seemed to have died out, a funeral of which was unattended by myself. His hair went without straightening and his socks without the mismatched charm. His face had a five o’clock shadow and glasses almost always on his face. His gaze would hardly meet mine, he was distancing himself, whether he knew it or not.

The first thing I noticed, despite the amount of time dedicated to looking at Phil, was my cereal. I had bought his favorite of mine, knowing that he’d sneak a bit here and there. You’d think that with all the angry comments I make that I would hate when he ate my food, but it rarely bothered me. Strangely it felt normal to share my food with him, life an old married couple where one would deny liking something and then as soon as it was in the house they would eat almost all of it. But, as the days drone on, it never happened. A solid week had past all the while I thought that he might not have noticed that I got the cereal, but as I sat at the dining table for breakfast, anime ready to watch on screen with the spoon in my hand as I munch at the cereal, Phil walked past not really caring about the cereal change. He glanced at me and gave a meek smile as he entered the lounge and instead of sitting at the table, he sat at the sofa. And instead of watching the anime he pulled out headphones and plugged them into his laptop, inserted them in his ears, and ate his Shreddies in silence, laptop on his lap, oblivious to my shocked state. I played it off in my head as Phil needing a little space, after seven years it was notable why. It continued, with small breaks of our ‘normal’ back in the mix, but rarely so. Something was wrong.

I don’t ask.

The next thing I notice was the lack of talking, or any communication really. Being that we are best friends, Phil and I hardly went a few hours without acknowledging one another in some way. On top of that the doors in our house that were rarely used, now seemed to be used whenever he wanted. Before this his door was always either open or slightly jarred so I could yell to him and speak with him without a barrier in the way. The lounge door was never closed, there was no need for it to be. The only door really we closed was the main door and toilet. Other than that the doors were always open. Always. But no longer. It started slow, his door slowly getting more and more closed each day until the door was sealed shut. Then it started in the living room, the door that before this had rarely to ever been used, now was used whenever he sat in there, closing off communication. Before this the longest time we spent being silent was while we were sleeping, rarely would we go three hours without a word. Now it was more like three days.

He was closing off. He was drifting. I was fading.

Countless things seemed to take their toll over the month of bitterness but tonight just seemed to be one on the worst. We used to eat dinner together but no longer was that true. We rarely saw one another, let alone ate with each other. The tension hung in the air around us, but neither made an effort to remove it.

And that terrified me.

Phil hates conflict and tension so this would never normally happen. He would resolve it in one way or another and we would fall back into the normal process of our lives.  
I wonder what caused this, I wonder if it was me. Did I snuggle to close, did I push the boundaries of our friendship, of our delicate friendship. Had I said something, had I done something? Did I forget clean the dishes, or vacuum the carpet? Did I forget something he needed at the store, did I buy the wrong thing at the store?

The realization is what really broke me.

Maybe it was just time.

Surely 19 year old Dan knew it, hell he lived like it. You only have so much time for x thing before it ends up changing. And maybe Phil wanted his time, his interaction with me, to be done. Maybe the universe did. My cheeks were wet, my chest rising and falling unsteadily. The truth was hurting yes, but losing Phil is going to hurt even more that just realizing I will. Maybe I already had.

Hours seemed to tick by, not much of the time under here was dedicated to thinking anymore, more so sulking. I could feel the fall into the extensional crisis happening, too tired and weak to stop it. My hair had gone curly, my cheeks tight from dried tears, eyes red from all the rubbing. I felt numb. Numb and alone.

\-----

The night was eerily quiet, the only sound was the clicking from my keys of the laptop balanced on my lap. I tried desperately to lose myself in it. It didn’t seem to work. My mind still finding its way to those stupid thoughts. The thoughts of Dan. Of his dreams and wishes. Of all the things I can never give him. The things he’ll leave me for.  
The silence buzzes in my ears, growing louder and louder. He’ll leave, it’s inevitable. All things end, no matter how badly you want them to last forever.

  
When I was younger I had a plan, it was full proof. I was going to graduate college and get my perfect job. I would run into my soulmate and get married, and a few years later have kids, settling down in a nice two story house with loads of windows and a dog of my own. I would have everything by thirty. But you see, I don’t have that. But I feel like little Phil left out a few important exceptions and other things. Yes, I still want those things, I still want a house with a dog in the garden, a baby in its crib upstairs and someone who will love me in all the ways I want. I still want that, but it seems to come secondary now. When I meet Dan, they seemed less relevant. I was happy. I had my dream job, but every other aspect was put on hold, postponed, saved for a later date. I was happy with my life, I am happy with it. I was happy with just Dan. But will Dan be happy with just me?

  
Dan is young, still able to go and do what he wants, still time to change his path to achieve his goals. Still time to find that person he’s always wanted and still time to get what he wants.

I chose him.

And that was selfish.

I hate myself for choosing him, and not because I’m unhappy, but because Dan might not want just me forever. I hate looking at him knowing I’m the one choosing my wants over his. I hate that I revised my wants to be what we have, knowing that in the end one of us will get hurt. And I don’t want it to be Dan.

The house is silent still, wrong in every way. I’ve been a dick to him lately, however not intentional, I know I have. I can tell he knows too. I can tell he’s hurt. Maybe, I think, maybe he’ll understand, maybe he’ll move on, live his dream. I don’t want to be the one holding him back like I am now.

My eyes are heavy as I slide to lay on the couch, looking at the closed door, hating that I shut it, shutting him out. I stare at the ceiling, resting my head on the armrest. I think about him and his dreams. Him and his personality. Him and his laugh. Him and his needs. Him and his eyes. Him.

I wake suddenly, not realizing I had fallen asleep. The flat is still cold, still silent. I sigh deeply. The sleep seemed to help. It helped me think things over, re-evaluate what I’m doing. What I’m doing to him, to me, is pointless. It’s only hurting us both. Why waste what time I have left with him? Why waste my limited days? I sit up slowly, glancing at the clock noticing the time reading half past one in the morning. Is he up? I wonder with the thought of finally feeling okay again, with Dan again, in my mind, ready to happen, though clouded with worry, making me feel the need to wait. But I’m done waiting.

I quickly make my way to his door, frowning at seeing the darkness creeping out from the crack in between the bottom of the door and the ground. I think momentarily that he’s sleeping. I consider going to bed and just waiting till morning, not wanting to cause anymore disruption, but it’s late, and I miss him, and I don’t want to anymore. I want his cuddles and warmth, I want his voice and laughter. I want him.

I open the door, and see a blob under the covers, fully submerged. I smile, feeling happy for the first time in weeks. The caution is thrown to the wind, the fear, the dread, replaced with just the feeling of being content. The feeling of home.

“Dan?” I whisper quietly. The lump under the cover stirs, clearly startled by the voice sounding throughout the room, which is understood, we haven’t spoken today. Or yesterday. The inner guilt bubbles in my gut, knowing I’m the only one to blame, I pushed him away, I caused our pain.

“Hmpfft.” Dan mutters in reply. His throat sounds…worn, like he’d been screaming for hours, but I couldn’t care less about how his voice sounded because it’s Dan. And he’s here and he’s okay and he isn’t leaving. My eye catches on his mop of hair as it surfaces, curly and chocolatey, perfect. The thoughts I never allow myself to indulge in surface when my heart rate picks up. It’s the same feeling I got when I first saw him on webcam and in person. It was the feeling I got whenever he snuggled against my chest closely and hugged me with all he had. It was the feeling of seeing his weary morning side that I knew I was the only one who could see it. I knew the feeling, if only by description from the butterflies I felt when our hand gazed one another or when his hips leant against mine on the sofa. I know I’m feeling, and I am almost certain he knows too. I cared so much about hiding it before but I don’t hide it now, I don’t care if he knows or if the fans know. I just want him, I just want him in whatever way I can have him. I know that my feelings, even though they are so much more than what that word can describe, may not ever be addressed, but I don’t care because it’s Dan. My Dan. His eyes poke out of the wad of covers and my mood instantly sinks. His eyes are red rimmed, bloodshot, glossy with tears. Tears because of me and my stupid distancing. I feel like shit for hurting him and all I want is to just run up and kiss and cuddle him make it better but I need to explain. He deserves that at the very least. We can’t pretend it never happened.

But how do I explain?

How do I tell him I love him, but not say that because we need to be whole again first? How do I tell him I want him to achieve his goals, but I fear him leaving me? How do I tell him I never wanted to hurt him because that was never my intention? How do I tell him that I was just worried he would leave me? How do I explain the pain I felt while doing it, while hurting him? How can I rationalize that sort of thing?

My mind blanks. He reveals more of himself from under the dark, warm covers, most likely thinking I’m going to proclaim something life changing like I’m moving out or I hate you. We meet eyes and I can tell that he saw my glossy tired eyes. The bags and the lack of happiness. I can tell. With lack of any explanation we just stare at one another, tears dripping from my eyes, and forming in his. I see how broken he is, how broken I made him. And I break before him, and just cry, turning my gaze away. I try and catch my breath for a few moments, finally succeeding. My eyes are tight now from more dried tears, throat hoarse from the salt dripping down it. But I meet his gaze, more confident now.

“I-I’m sorry.” I break at the end again, tears falling again, our eyes meet and I know he understands, just like he always had. Just like he always will.

“Come here.” He says softly after a moment, opening his arms to make room for me. I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to force this on him. But I meet his eyes and just know that everything is okay again. We’re okay again. I shuffle over to his bed and get in next to him. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, instantly bringing me in for a hug. We stay like that for a long time until our eyes shut and our minds turned off. His warmth beside me was intoxicating, he was addictive. I love him, and I plan to tell him. Because I may not have what little Phil wanted and he might not have his goals, but I know that we both know that this, this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me a prompt or what you would like to see next. I hope you enjoyed!


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